


The Rotation of Venus

by SickBacchus



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, The Blind Banker, gender bend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-12
Updated: 2011-08-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 12:22:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/561035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SickBacchus/pseuds/SickBacchus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joan is worried about Sherlock's injuries after their fight with Golem. </p><p>(fem!Sherlock, fem!John hurt/comfort)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rotation of Venus

Golem released Sherlock, and she collapsed to the planetarium floor, gasping for breath. She heard his footsteps retreating, and she sprang into action.

Sherlock scrambled for the gun, and pointed it at the retreating giant. She aimed, the feeling of new oxygen still sweet in her lungs. She fired, arms shaking, and missed. Aim again, arms still shaking. Miss.

What are there options? A chase? Sherlock tries to stand and give chase the Golem, but collapses.

“Sherlock.” Joan scrambles over to her as she falls, stopping her head from cracking on the floor. “Sherlock, are you all right?”

“Of course not, you idiot. He’s getting away!” Sherlock tried to sound furious, but her voice was painful and strained. She was gasping for air, there didn’t seem to be enough in the room.

Joan reached out and grabbed her shoulders “Sherlock, calm down.” Sherlock pushed Joan away and tried to stand again.

Joan grabbed Sherlock by the shoulders again, and slapped her across her face. Hard.

Sherlock gasped, and gaped at Joan, open-mouthed.

“Are you listening to me now?” Joan said, her voice almost a growl. Sherlock nodded.

“Good. Now, pay attention. Calm. Down.” Joan squeezed Sherlock’s shoulders softly, menace gone, suddenly all tenderness and comfort, “Take slow deep breaths. Are you all right?”

Sherlock forced herself to slow her breathing, but as she sat, looking up at Joan kneeling over her, she could still feel her heart racing, and the rush of her pulse seemed strangely loud. For a wild moment she wondered if Joan could hear it too.

“Um… yes, I’m fine, fine.” Sherlock was extremely aware of Joans hands on her arms, Joans breath on her face, the fact that Joan was breathing heavily as well. Adrenaline, surely, Sherlock thought.

“Let’s see the damage,” Joan said, and her hands slid up Sherlock’s arms, to her shoulders, and up, on her collar, and now under her collar. Sherlock shivered. Joan’s hands were just barely holding Sherlock’s neck. And Sherlock wanted… she didn’t know. She wanted Joans hands to move up, to hold her face, tilt it just so, and pull it towards Joans own… But no, she would rather have Joans hands slip down, trace her collarbone, lower, exploring everything on the way.

God, Sherlock would be satisfied if Joan would just tighten her grip on the throat she was holding so tenderly. Squeeze until Sherlock could barely breathe. Squeeze until she left marks. The delicate touch was driving her mad. Her throat was raw and sensitive. If Joan could just take her fingertips and dig in…

Sherlock closed her eyes and began to breathe unsteadily again. Joan immediately pulled away.

“Sorry, does that hurt?” Joan asked, worriedly. “There will be some bruising, and-“

She stopped when Sherlock grabbed her hands, pulled them back to her neck, and wrapped Joan’s fingers around her throat.

“Sherlock…?” Joan’s eyes had gone wide.

Sherlock sighed, and she knew Joan could feel it by the way her fingers twitched. “It hurts when I breathe, just there.” Sherlock indicated the spot she had placed Joans thumb.

“Oh!” Joan relaxed with the thought that the reason her hands were around Sherlock’s neck was a medical one. “Well, that should be expected. I’m afraid it will be painful for a day at least.”

“I can taste blood.”

“What? Damn it, Sherlock! Why didn’t you tell me right away!” Joan swept her hands up to Sherlock’s face, angling Sherlock’s head so she could get a better view. Sherlock opened her mouth, and Joan leaned close. Sherlock could feel Joan’s breath against her chin.

“I can’t see anything well enough, but we need to get you to a hospital just in case.” Joan’s fingers dug into Sherlock’s skin and tangled into her hair in her panic.

Sherlock shook her head slightly, careful not to shake off the hand on her face. “No, it’s not serious, I just bit my tongue when he grabbed me.”

Joan’s face grew red with fury. Then all at once she collapsed into Sherlock, hands in her hair, around the back of her neck, and with their foreheads pressing together. “You complete ass,” Joan said, her eyes closed in relief, “You scared me on purpose.”

Sherlock smiled, “I like when you worry over me,” she whispered, and brushed her lips softly against Joans cheek, almost touching the corner of her lips. Joan tensed, fingers clenched tighter into Sherlock’s hair, foreheads pressed together almost painfully, but didn’t move away.

“Joan…” Sherlock began a thought, and changed her mind. “We should go.”

Joan didn't move, but opened her eyes, and looked into Sherlock’s.

Sherlock tried to think of rational matters, but her brain was preoccupied with cataloguing every place of contact between herself and Joan. Their knees were touching, Sherlock’s hand was slightly against Joans thigh, which seemed extraordinarily warm. Joan’s hands were on her neck and in her hair, which pulled in a way that was just painful enough. Their foreheads were pressed together, and Joans nose was almost touching Sherlock’s. A slight adjustment, a move forward, and there, now their noses were brushing.

But there was so much that they had to do besides sitting in the middle of a dark planetarium, inhaling each other’s breath.

“Joan, we have to go…”

“Shut the hell up, Sherlock.” Joan said.

“Joan, if we don’t leave right now, I am going to kiss you.”

“Sherlock, if you don’t kiss me right now, I am going to leave.”

Sherlock chuckled and leaned in. Their lips just brushed and rested together. Then Joan pushed Sherlock down, and was in a frenzy, biting Sherlock’s mouth and pressing her tongue against Sherlock’s, and Joans hands were no longer just in Sherlock’s hair, but everywhere. Sherlock held onto Joan’s waist and reciprocated, just as aroused by little details, (the cut on Sherlock’s tongue was extra sensitive when Joan ran her tongue over it), as she was with the whole experience Oh God, this is really happening.

Joan’s hand brushed against Sherlock’s belt, and she froze, and began to move away.

“What… what is it?” Sherlock asked, flushed.

Joan pulled out her cell phone.

“Either I’m getting a cab right now, or I’m going to fuck you right here on the planetarium floor.”

Sherlock grinned.

“Put the phone away.”  



End file.
